


maybe i can never fly

by hihilumin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Introspection, aka awake is oikawacore and i can't shut up about it, mentions of seijoh team - Freeform, so now there is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihilumin/pseuds/hihilumin
Summary: Oikawa realizes, then, he does not want to be like the ocean at all.[ inspired by bts' awake ]
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	maybe i can never fly

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't let this thought go so i wrote this in one fell swoop ;; this isn't so much a story as it is a messy character study on one of my favorite boys ever but it's fine we're fine. 
> 
> enjoy !! ♡

His family has always loved the ocean.

Oikawa remembers his father driving long hours every summer, if only for the family to make temporary home in the sand and build castles washed away by the waves. As a child Tooru dips his toes into the ocean and feels himself shiver; he watches the light catch the deep blue and scatter there, gleaming to the sight, and he learns: this is the beginning of yearning.

He is like the ocean, his parents say: so volatile, so unaware of its own power –– until it strikes.

When he is seven years old he finds himself snagged in an ocean wave washed up on the shore and falls back, startled, when he feels it carrying him away in unprecedented intensity; his cries are loud and shake the sand beneath them, and his sister has to hold him until his breath steadies, and the ache in his knee subsides, and again he is calm.   
  


When he is eight years old, Tooru watches a volleyball match for the first time; watches the men sprint and jump high, higher than he ever thought possible –– higher than any wave could ever attempt to snatch.

Oikawa realizes, then, he does not want to be like the ocean at all.   
No; he wants to learn how to fly.

––––

Flying is difficult with manmade wings, the bruises and scratches he earns are evidence, and Tooru learns he can’t fly alone; disliked and picked on for being too pretty, too emotional, for stick thin arms that don’t know how to fight. 

A boy comes to his rescue once –– throws punches and shoves as hard as an eight year old can manage with words that are just as bruising, before turning back to him, asking if he is okay. Oikawa says something stubborn, hurt inflecting each word but overshadowed by the pride that builds in him, a stepping stool for takeoff: _I can look after myself, you’re not my mom!_

But his hands betray him and clutch on to the sleeve hem of Iwaizumi Hajime’s shirt, and he realizes he’s found someone he wants to fly alongside, too. 

–––– 

Kageyama Tobio has had wings since birth. When Oikawa watches him soar so effortlessly he learns: this is the beginning of resentment coiling his stomach in knots, the weight of it dragging him down and further away from the sky.

He pushes himself harder; learns every maneuver; commands the court with every toss –– but the ball still falls to the ability of Tobio’s flight, to the way he takes wing above the clouds, to the way Tooru can only watch.

(But he is the ocean’s prodigal son, volatile and unaware until it strikes.  
The regret towards hands, reckless and ungraceful as they barely miss Kageyama’s face, is overshadowed by the desire to clip wings off and take them for himself.)

––––

Ushijima Wakatoshi is the wall he cannot fly over, and manmade wings are not nearly enough.

Tooru pushes himself, and pushes, and _pushes_ (and momentarily he is there, he _soars_ ) ––  
and then he flies too close to the sun, falling right back into the ocean where he belongs.

(Conflagration is the outpour of brilliance; he shines so brightly and tastes victory until it burns on his tongue, and he’s reduced to ash.  
Pride is the stepping stool for flight, for the fall.)

In Tooru’s mind he screams; he tears apart the gymnasium, white with rage.  
Outwardly his smile is as cold as the air knocked out of his lungs.

(When he is alone in the locker room the tears come overflowing and merciless; shoulders shake and fists beat down at broken wings, a device of his own contraption that brings him no closer to the sky.

He lets the ocean take him; doesn’t realize it is his coming home.)

––––

He doesn’t have wings on his own.

From short nods and reassurances to the yells of victory on court, he finds that where he is planted –– where they are planted –– he will still struggle, he will still fight.

(Seijoh is a castle and Tooru is the king, but he can only take the world with the rest by his side.)

––––

His favorite painting is The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

It is dynamic and overwhelming; it is powerful.

It shows him waves can reach great heights too.


End file.
